Three Impossible Words
by an-alternate-world
Summary: The first time Buck says 'I love you', it's unexpected and unbidden. Eddie can't say it back, not yet, but hopefully his actions say it for him. Or, 5 times Buck says 'I love you' and the 1 time Eddie finally says it.


**Title: **Three Impossible Words  
**Author: **an-alternate-world  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters/Pairing: **Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz  
**Word Count:** 6,356  
**Summary:** The first time Buck says '_I love you_', it's unexpected and unbidden. Eddie can't say it back, not yet, but hopefully his actions say it for him.  
Or, 5 times Buck says 'I love you' and the 1 time Eddie finally says it.  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** There are bits lifted from Season 3 but I'm not bothering with the lawsuit or the fighting because that just creates unnecessary drama when I'm trying to rot teeth with the cute fluffy. I do what I want.  
**Disclaimer: **I am in no way associated with 911, Fox, or anything else related to that particular universe.

* * *

_Based off a conversation on the Buddie Discord a couple of weeks ago._

* * *

It's been agony all day.

Ever since he woke up, he's been in pain. At first he thought, perhaps naively, that he'd slept crookedly, twisting the wrong way around the pillow propped beneath his leg. Once he'd descended the stairs, once he'd tried to move, there clearly hadn't been any improvement. Today, for whatever reason, he's been unable to find a comfortable position where he can prop his leg and reduce the excruciating spasms that make his brain white out temporarily every time.

He's tried all the exercises recommended by his PT, he's tried hobbling around with only the walking stick to stretch out the muscles, he's tried extra painkillers to the point he should be seeing cotton wool… Nothing's helped. Nothing seems to have even made a dent. Nothing has made the stars behind his eyes disappear.

He's near tears by the time his phone rings and he fumbles for it blindly because to hell with someone hearing him in distress about this. He couldn't be bothered trying to hide it and if he didn't answer, that tended to just lead to more questions.

"H-Hello?" he says, vainly trying to contain the sniffles but his voice is hoarse and strangled and catches and-

"Hey."

He shuts his eyes, a tear spilling down his cheek before he can stop it, and tilts the phone away from his mouth so at least his unsteady breaths can't be heard so loudly. "Hi."

"You, uh… Are you okay?"

Another stab of pain ripples up his leg and he whimpers before he can stop it, biting his lip as he tries again to bend his knee and reduce some of the pressure on his ankle and calf. He suspects it's a nerve, some part of his body starting to heal so he can feel again, but _this_? He wishes he couldn't feel _this_.

"Buck, what's wrong?" There's a touch of urgency now and he backpedals, before the team descend or 911 gets called and he's taken out of his apartment by someone else in an LAFD crew that he might know. He could just imagine what old Mrs Johnson at the end of the corridor would think.

"M-My leg," he admits, because what's the point in lying? At least he knows what the problem is. At least the problem is identifiable. "It- It's not been a good day."

Eddie hums, low and thoughtful. "D'you want me to come over?"

He shakes his head even as the whispered, "Would you?" falls from his lips like his brain is disconnected from his mouth. He could blame the pain or the medications but mostly he's just strung out with exhaustion and hurt. He's almost tempted to hobble to the kitchen and find a cleaver in his knife block. Would they let him stay in the LAFD if he has a prosthetic leg? He'd have to ask Bobby next time the Captain called.

Eddie promises to be there in twenty minutes, reminding him about the breathing exercises he could do, asking if Buck needs a refill on any medications or groceries, but Buck just sniffles and wipes at his cheeks and says he's okay, _he's okay_, like the mantra that it has become in his PT sessions when he shuffles an extra step, adds extra pressure to his weight bearing load, even though he feels like he's so far from the world of 'okay' that he's been flung into another galaxy.

At some point, the call to Eddie disconnects and he doesn't pay attention to the passing of time because time races and stretches like molasses when you're in pain. He hears a key scrape in his lock soon enough and he tries to shift on the couch, almost seriously considers getting up before a fresh stab keeps him planted, when he hears the door open.

"You upstairs or down?" Eddie calls and he hadn't even realised there's been a weight on his chest, a desperation for comfort, until he hears Eddie's warm but worried voice spread through his apartment.

"Couch," he croaks, because once he'd gotten downstairs this morning, he couldn't fathom dealing with the stairs a second time. His front door shuts, the soft clatter of Eddie's shoes being toed off, and he's fighting tears again when Eddie sweeps into view.

"Hey," Eddie murmurs, sinking onto the couch and pulling Buck into a hug. Buck folds into the embrace, one of Eddie's hands cradling the back of his neck while the other runs over his back. "Just breathe through it, alright? I know it hurts, I know, but breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth."

He does his best to crush his tears out of existence but his heart remains erratic and his lungs are still squeezing too tight behind his ribs. Eddie holds him, stroking his hair and whispering encouragement, and it helps strengthen some of the tenuous grasp on his emotions. It helps so much that Buck almost doesn't want to let Eddie go.

At least until another streak of searing fire rips up his leg and he flinches, a ragged breath escaping his lips along with a barely stifled sob. Eddie uses that as the opportunity to pull away and check him.

"Really has been a bad day, huh?" Eddie's fingers are light on Buck's cheek, his eyes scanning Buck's expression like he's decoding all the secrets of his heart and soul. "Have you had your meds?"

He nods, watery eyes meeting Eddie's as a fresh wave of misery hits him because there's nothing he hasn't tried. "N-Nothing's helped today. Can y-you just cut it off?"

"When we've worked so hard putting you back together?" Eddie shakes his head like it's the most ridiculous thing he's heard in months, shifting from the couch to the coffee table even though Buck wants to hide in his arms again. "Can I have a look?"

Buck shrugs helplessly, biting his bottom lip when Eddie grasps his foot with gentle hands. He can't avoid the way he winces and twitches when Eddie sets it his lap, but Eddie's medical training is clear when he carefully peels the fabric of Buck's sweatpants towards his knee.

Maybe it's just Buck's imagination that the scars look angrier today than usual, twisting along his calf like a pair of demonic dragons. On any given day, they aren't something he likes looking at because they're a reminder of pain and fear and hopelessness. He hopes once they're healed that they'll disappear into the creases of skin and muscle and hair. Maybe he'll find a tattooist who can cover them up with something badass rather than just the 'bad' that they are now.

"Where does it hurt?" Eddie says and Buck would say _everywhere_ but he knows Eddie would huff and request more information. There's nothing worse than a vague victim when you're trying to provide help.

"Ankle," he mumbles, watching Eddie's fingers move to where he mentioned. They're as light as a butterfly's wings, flitting over his skin to assess his lower leg. "The- The inside of my leg just keeps- It's like it's being ripped open? And it- it's been like this all day."

"I'm no expert," Eddie says wryly as a thumb smooths a circle into the inside of his ankle joint and Buck tries to breathe through the pain that spears through him, "but I don't think anything's broken."

A laugh bubbles past his lips before he can stop it and he attempts to fix Eddie with a withering glare. One side of Eddie's mouth is tilted in a smile and he quickly realises his attempt is futile, the glower wiped from his face before it even really settles. "Maybe not this time."

"Hopefully never again," Eddie says, humming in consideration as he applies a slight amount of pressure to his ankle and calf. Buck almost recoils but he trembles into staying still, because he's put up with the poking and prodding and twisting in physical therapy and he can handle this. He _needs_ to handle this because he's tried all day to handle it on his own and short of taking an axe to his leg, he'll tolerate almost anything if it might help.

An occasional tear slips down his cheek when Eddie's fingers press too firm or graze a particular spot that's too tender, but there are less twinges of pain the longer Eddie massages out the kinks in his muscles and nerves. He's even able to recline into the couch as he looks at the ceiling, breathing oxygen deep into his lungs for the first time all day.

"Feeling better?" Eddie says and Buck nods, savouring how his lungs feel like they can inflate again without shuddering around the pain.

"_So_ much. Thank you. Have I mentioned how much I love you?" he says and it's only when he feels Eddie's fingers falter that his brain catches up to the words that spilled past his lips, unbidden and thoughtless. His head snaps down again, eyes flashing over Eddie. "I- I mean-"

Eddie glances at him, still warm and calm and a slight smile at the edge of his eyes. "It's okay." Eddie's hands resume their ministrations like they'd never stalled in the middle of a sweep up his calf. "I'm just glad it's helped."

And Buck nods dumbly with a soft, "_Oh_." Eddie doesn't realise he's just admitted to loving his best friend but his best friend also hasn't freaked out at hearing it. He's not sure how to cope with that.

At least his leg isn't sending ravaging snakes through his veins anymore.

If nothing else, it feels like the best sort of best friendship to have.

* * *

It's difficult to look at Buck for too long when the bruising smattered across his face is almost dark enough to make the birthmark disappear. The scratches stretching from his forehead to his cheek look like Buck had a battle with Wolverine and Eddie likes to think he won, seeing as Chris _and_ Buck are both still alive.

He's well aware that he's rambling as he breezes into Buck's apartment like a tsunami hadn't just swept away dozens only two days ago, and he gestures for Chris to head to Buck's nook under the stairs where the TV is set up because he suspects - and almost hopes - they'll both camp out on the couch for the day. Still, he knows Buck needs to spend time with Chris again, he needs to have the sense of normality, because he _knows_ Buck won't reach out, he won't admit to being in pain or being scared. As if to provide evidence of his opinion, his eyes sweep over the kitchen table while rattling off all the items he shoved into Chris' bag this morning. It's impossible to miss the bottle of beer that's already open and two-thirds gone. It's barely half-past seven in the morning. He notes it, files it away. If it continues, he'll confront Buck or bring it up with Bobby.

Buck's filled with questions about caring for Chris, and Eddie doesn't miss how each one is laden with doubt and insecurity. It hurts to hear. It hurts that Buck, the guy that's taller than him and broader than him and served longer than him in the LAFD, is no longer sure of his thoughts and actions anymore. It hurts that Buck, who has always been such a natural with Chris and been so selfless when taking care of him, questions his ability to continue caring for Eddie's son.

It's hearing that doubt, hearing that uncertainty, which makes him grasp Buck's shoulder. He can feel the firm muscles beneath his fingers, the tension coiled into every cell of Buck's body, and his thumb hovers so close to Buck's neck he could swear he can feel the quiver of his heartbeat against the loop of his fingerprint.

"There's nobody in this world I trust with my son more," he says firmly, because it's the God's honest truth. Buck _saved_ his son and there aren't enough words in English or Spanish or any other language to explain how much that means to him. If he'd lost Chris after he lost Shannon, he's not sure he would have survived. He can already imagine the conversation with his parents, their pleas to return home to El Paso and Eddie… Eddie suspects there is no such thing as '_home_' unless Chris is there with him.

The stunned look on Buck's face makes his heart skip and he hesitates, other words caught in his throat, because he can't bear to see all the pain and uncertainty in Buck's eyes that are rimmed with pink above his pale cheeks. He hasn't seen Buck look this tired, this emotionally overwrought, since Ali broke up with him almost two months ago.

He takes the coward's way out when he decides he can't focus on Buck's fragility, retreating to draw his kid's attention away from the cartoons he's already turned on. It's impossible not to smile at how Chris feels so at home in Buck's apartment. It's impossible not to smile at how Chris lights up every time he asks if they can see Buck. He pulls his son into a hug, dropping a kiss to his cheek because he's made it his mission to be more affectionate with Chris. The tsunami had reminded him just how fleeting life could be.

"Love ya, have fun," he says while setting Chris on the coffee table. He adjusts his shirts as he approaches Buck, still standing by his kitchen table. "Maybe try going to the zoo this time? Something inland?" he jokes in an attempt to dispel the dazed look on Buck's face. He's not sure exactly what he'd said that has caused that look, he's honestly terrified to dig into Buck's frame of mind at the moment if he's drinking first thing in the morning and questioning everything, but he hopes spending the day with Chris will help. His best friend, his partner at the 118, needs this. Eddie knows exactly how Chris can lighten the darkest of his days and for Buck… Buck's had too many of those dark days lately.

He's halfway out the door before he pauses, hand resting on the knob as some of the words that had stuck in his throat earlier decide to try forcing their way past his lips.

"Oh, um..." Buck turns to look at him and nerves flare in his stomach, clenching behind his chest and strangling some of his confidence. "Thank you," he says with all the conviction and certainty he can muster in the hopes that Buck believes him. Judging by the insecure frown that flickers across Buck's face, he doesn't understand why he's being thanked. "For not giving up," he says, hesitating a moment longer before he shuts the door and flees. If he has to keep saying those words until Buck believes it, until he's no longer questioning _everything_, then Eddie can make that sort of commitment.

It's not until the elevator screen shifts from a _2 _to a _1_ that he starts wondering what the words 'giving up' meant to Buck. Had Buck interpreted it as searching for Chris? Or fighting his way through rehab? Or surviving the bombing? Or just merely the sheer willpower and fortitude required to survive three near-death experiences in a handful of months?

He can't tell Buck exactly how he feels or how much Buck's presence in his life means, it sticks in his chest every time, but hopefully the action of leaving Chris with him, insisting he still trusts Buck with his son, speaks louder than any words, any sentences, he could try to form.

He's climbing into his truck when the texts comes through:

_ thank u for trusting me w Chris  
i love u_

He tries to pretend it doesn't make the blood in his veins heat, tries to pretend the goofy smile that spreads over his lips isn't because Buck has become the other half of his world in the last couple of months.

* * *

"Look, I'm telling you that it's more important that you-"

"No, it's really not. Haven't you been listening to me?"

"Not when you're wrong."

"_I'm_ not wrong. _You're_ wrong," he retorts, fingers clenched against the kitchen counter. He's been trying, in vain, to convince his sister that the recipe he got from Bobby and Athena _i__s_ a viable recipe and not something he's printed off the internet. So far, he thinks he's more likely to get skewered by a utensil in his kitchen drawer that he's never used.

Maddie rolls her eyes and waves her hand at him in an attempt to get him to leave her alone or shut up. He might've even considered it if she wasn't in _his_ kitchen using _his_ ingredients and _his_ equipment to cook for Thanksgiving. If she was going to invade for the day then the least she could do was listen to him.

"Is this where I say I'm glad I'm an only child?" Chim pipes up from the other end of the kitchen island where he'd been preparing the meats for half an hour.

"Not now," Buck grunts, scrunching his nose at the amused grin his sister shoots her boyfriend. "I'm _telling_ you, Mads-"

A pair of arms circle his waist and whatever protest he'd been intending to make stutters, his tongue forming knots as fingers graze against some of the muscles in his stomach.

"Sibling squabbles are _so_ much more fun when you're not in the middle of it," Eddie muses, chin hooking over Buck's shoulder to peer at the vegetables Maddie's been forcing him to slice into tinier pieces than the recipe required.

"I might say I love you but I'm holding a knife. Do you _really_ want to poke fun at me right now?" He glances at Eddie with an arched eyebrow, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"I could take you," Eddie murmurs in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. Eddie uses the momentary lapse in concentration to steal a piece of carrot from Buck's chopping board, dancing out of Buck's reach to return to where Chris has been watching a movie.

He doesn't even realise the smile _he's_ wearing could rival Eddie's until he returns his gaze to Maddie with the intention of pursuing the argument and winning it.

Except now she's staring at him, eyes sparkling and lips pursed together in a knowing grin and he realises that she's about to change the entire direction of the conversation. Buck wonders if he can curse Eddie out in front of his kid for the way their casual intimacy was about to be put under the microscope by his sister.

"So how long has _that_ been going on?" she says, leaning against the counter behind her, preparation of food abandoned, as she sips from her wine glass and pierces him with her stare. And then looks over to where Eddie's probably sitting on Buck's couch. And then looks back at him.

He shrugs, intent on brushing off how he hadn't sent her a series of emojis or called her to squeal like a teenager when Eddie had kissed him the first time, by reaching for a red pepper from the assorted whole vegetables still in front of him. "A couple of weeks?" he says innocently before he flinches at Chim's knife clattering to the floor.

"You- _Wait_\- What?" Chim interrupts, ignoring the knife in favour of pointing a finger between Buck and wherever Eddie is. "You and him? You're actually-?"

"Yes?" Buck's smile slips into an uncertain frown. Chim's best friend was Hen, after all. He knows the guy isn't homophobic, can't possibly be horrified by this, and yet…

Chim blinks, rapidly. His mouth opens and closes like he's a fish that can't seem to swallow enough water, and some of the colour is fading from his face. "I need to call Hen," Chim says abruptly, something shuttering behind his eyes. He abandons the meat and fails to even rinse his hands properly before scurrying out of Buck's apartment with his fingers already reaching for the phone in his pocket.

Buck frowns after him, wondering what the hell is going on. It's not helped by the way Maddie's eyebrows are raised towards her hairline, her lips bitten between her teeth as she struggles to suppress her grin. "_What_?" he demands, utterly perplexed by all the weird behaviour taking place around him.

Eddie's arms curve around his waist again and he swats at them, refusing to lose more vegetables to these wandering hands, but this time Eddie practically _nuzzles_ into the back of his shoulder and presses a kiss to a spot just above the collar of his shirt. He fights the urge to sink into it, but he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. Maddie looks absolutely _delighted_ though and that's enough to keep him upright.

"Let's just say I'll have some extra money to spend on Christmas presents this year," Eddie mumbles into his ear and Buck's not sure how that's meant to be any _less_ confusing because clearly his sister is in on the joke when she snorts a laugh into her glass of wine.

And Buck knows he's being left out of things and he _hates _it.

* * *

Chris is still buzzing after spending Christmas at the firehouse, following kids from the group home and clinging to Abuela and giggling every time Buck came near him. It had been impossible to extinguish Chris' smile and Eddie had captured a lot of photos of his son, intent on looking at them on the days he needed reminding that he's a good father who made the right decision to stay in Los Angeles.

It's helped, of course, by Buck's presence in their lives.

Buck is buzzing just as much as Christopher after the success of the surprise party.

"Thank you for today," he says, sinking onto his couch beside Buck. He's _finally_ gotten Chris tucked into bed, at least an hour after his regular bedtime, and he imagines it'll be hell getting him out of bed in the morning, but it's a small price to pay. He might even be able to grin and bear it. Maybe. Or maybe he'll need to dig out the photos and remember that his tiny, sleep-deprived demon was also the best thing in his life.

"After you said it wasn't just me feeling like Christmas sucked more than usual this year, I did what I had to do to make it special." Buck tilts his beer bottle towards the Christmas tree in the corner of Eddie's living room. "All I really did was call in Athena and she did the rest."

He smiles before he can stop it because Buck really is more thoughtful than everyone gives him credit for. He props his chin on Buck's shoulder, stealing the bottle from his hands to take a sip. "You made a lot of kids and their parents very happy today, Buck. That wasn't just about me and Chris."

"True, but I love you two the most," Buck says easily, like it's effortless, and maybe it is. His lips press against Eddie's forehead and Eddie's eyes flutter, awash with the warmth that Buck's affection always unleashes.

And Eddie… He can't help thinking about Buck's words because every time Buck says it, Eddie feels like he's meant to echo it. But saying those three words are tangled in issues and complications and problems and heartaches, memories of Shannon now laced with tragedy. He can say it to Chris but the love he has for his son is something else, something unbreakable, something no one can ever take away from him. Buck is…different, someone he's absolutely terrified to lose, and so he keeps drawing away from returning the words. It's not like his heart isn't fully invested in this relationship, like his heart hadn't perked up with interest the first time Buck had truly smiled at him, but ever since Buck had practically _moaned_ those words like a porn star in the middle of Eddie rubbing the pain out of his ankle and calf, something had changed between them. And not just because Eddie still flushes any time he thinks about how Buck had sounded.

To his credit, though, Buck never seems upset or disappointed that Eddie doesn't return the words. Eddie tends to think that's part of Buck's problem – he wears his heart on his sleeve where anyone can stab it and injure him. And Eddie's determined to be better, building walls and shields and armours and forts to protect it until Buck's emotions are no longer so fragile.

He tips his head up, his desire clear, and Buck smiles and skims their noses together before kissing him. It's slow and gentle, Buck's tongue darting against his lower lip and sending a shiver down his spine. He fumbles to get rid of the bottle to his coffee table so he can recline on the couch, tugging Buck into crawling over him because they've done this enough in the past month or so to know how to move together. It's never gotten particularly heated, at least not when they're at Eddie's house and Chris is asleep down the hall, but he enjoys running his hands down Buck's back, feeling the way his muscles clench beneath his fingers and his breath catches when they're in the middle of a kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Eddie," Buck whispers against his lips, and Eddie can feel the smile against his mouth as he opens his eyes to meet the crinkled, beautiful blues above him.

His hand slides under Buck's shirt so he can trace a heart into the small of his back like he's taken to doing recently as a step towards admitting his feelings. "Merry Christmas, Evan," he murmurs, feeling utterly content as Buck leans in to kiss him again and again until he's thoroughly unspooled by Buck's mouth and touches to the point of feeling like a floppy, fuzzy jellyfish nestled on his couch.

* * *

As far as Buck is concerned, working Christmas Day _and_ New Year's Day is cruel and unnatural punishment. Maybe 'The Powers That Be' have been tracking him to ensure his rotations have been organised in such a way as to screw with him for suing the department. He tries to pretend he doesn't wholeheartedly believe it otherwise he can imagine being called a paranoid conspiracy theorist.

It's not like New Year's Day is even a _bad_ shift to work. New Year's _Eve_ is actually worse because then you have to deal with the drunken parties and collapsing balconies and car accidents. By comparison, New Year's Day is a whole lot calmer because most of Los Angeles is sleeping in or sleeping all the alcohol off.

The problem with working New Year's Day is that everyone on-shift had still stayed up until midnight, celebrating at Bobby and Athena's. Even though they hadn't been able to drink after nine to ensure they were completely sober, Buck still hadn't been able to fall asleep after slumping into Eddie's bed after the party. His best guess was he'd dozed off around two and then the alarm had gone off at six-thirty.

It's barely midday. So far, they'd had two easy calls. But Buck's _feeling_ the exhaustion in the itch of his eyes and the heaviness of his limbs.

When he hears footsteps on the stairs, he perks up and tilts his head to see a tuft of black hair first, followed by Chimney's face. He shifts slightly, carefully, and waves his hand to get the man's attention.

"Hey, man. What's-" Chim starts to call out before Buck just about shoots lasers through his previously rebar'd head to silence him. He raises a finger to his lips and points down, so Chim saunters closer with his eyebrows raised. The guy doesn't even _try_ to conceal his snort, whipping out his phone to snap a photo.

Buck will _definitely_ kill him later for that.

"Looks like you've got your hands full there, Buckaroo," Chim jokes, moving around the small table in front of Buck to change the angle and snapping another photo.

Buck will _absolutely_ kill him later.

_Painfully_.

Even if it means Maddie never talks to him again.

Eddie's head shifts in his lap and he makes some sort of sleepy mumbling sound. Instinctively, Buck returns his hand to Eddie's hair, running his fingers through the strands a few times to soothe whatever has disturbed the light doze Eddie's finally fallen into. The slight tension in Eddie's shoulders fades, the pinching in his face disappears, and Chim almost certainly takes another photo.

Buck starts thinking he might have to fight Eddie for who gets to tear Chim's limbs from their sockets.

It's a fight he's willing to participate in, though.

Maybe he and Eddie will each get an arm and a leg out of it.

"Can you get me some water?" he says after Chim seems satisfied that he's taken enough close-ups of Eddie's sleeping face. Buck suspects the photos will get sent to Maddie and Hen, and probably then Bobby and Athena, before his request is even filled.

"Water?" Chim repeats, like it's so simple he's not sure what the request means. His eyes drift to Eddie's face and Buck tries not to fold around him as a shield against Chim's amusement or judgement or concern. He knew Eddie had managed even less sleep than Buck after all the sharp noises last night so at this point, ensuring Eddie gets some rest between calls is the least he can do. "Feeling thirsty, huh?"

"Chim, I swear to God-" His attempt at a threat is cut off by Eddie's hand patting his knee like he knows exactly what Buck's about to say and that he'll regret it later when Chim tattles to Maddie. Even deliriously exhausted, Buck suspects Eddie's awake enough to still know that.

Chim's smile is too wide and too bright but he skips towards the kitchen anyway. Buck trails his fingers through Eddie's hair, down the back of his neck and across the curve of his shoulders. Eddie like this is usually something he only witnesses after the longest shifts, after the most dismal of days, and in the privacy of his apartment or Eddie's house without Christopher around. He honestly wonders if he shouldn't have insisted Eddie call in sick after the disrupted couple of hours sleep he'd gotten. He wonders if it's not too late to suggest to Bobby that they send Eddie home.

He wraps a loose arm around Eddie's waist, leaning down to press a kiss to Eddie's shoulder. "I love you," he whispers, and he wonders if it's his imagination when he sees a slight rise in the edge of Eddie's lips.

He's barely swallowed a mouthful of the water that Chim brings him when the alarms blare and he flinches, and Eddie grunts but his brown eyes clear quickly and Buck can only offer an apologetic smile. He trails Eddie down the stairs to the truck, fixing the upturn in the collar of his shirt as they cross the floor.

"Hey, Hen!" Chim calls, jogging after them. She turns to him, an eyebrow arched above her glasses. "Have _I _got something to show _you_!"

And Buck seriously wonders if he can just shove Chim under the wheels of the truck then and there.

* * *

He watches cereal and milk scatter off Chris' spoon, the tremble in his tiny hand making it impossible to eat without some sort of mess ending up on the table and occasionally the floor. And yet, as he sits with his chin resting in his palm, watching his son eat is something both incredibly mundane and completely satisfying. His son is growing from a baby into a kid, and at some point he'll actually be someone Eddie starts sobbing over because when did he become an actual _person_ – potentially even a bratty teenager – rather than the wailing, nappy-wearing bundle of terror that Eddie didn't know how to deal with as a first-time father?

He sips his coffee as Chris looks at him, the warmth behind his smile lighting Eddie's soul as he offers a tired smile back. It's been a long few weeks and a series of back-to-back shifts with heartbreaking save attempts. He can't remember the last time he woke up and felt rested.

"D'you want to go to the park today, mijo?" He realises as soon as he says the words that he should have thought the timing of his question through. Chris' spoon had been on the return trip to his bowl but the surge of excitement that floods his body makes the metal land more forcefully in the bowl, specks of milk and a couple of Cheerio's scattering over the tabletop.

"Yeah! Is Buck coming too?" Chris squirms in his seat, and Eddie shrugs, swilling the coffee in his mug because yeah, Buck probably wouldn't even bat an eye if Eddie said he needed to get rid of a ring in Mordor. Given Buck's lack of pop culture knowledge, he'd put money on Buck immediately looking flights up on his phone to determine which airline would get them their fastest.

"That's a question we'll have to ask Buck."

As if on cue, Buck wanders into the kitchen and ruffles Chris' curls. "Ask Buck what?"

Eddie tries to hide his smile behind his mug as Buck steals a couple of the drier Cheerio's off the table like they're the best thing he's ever eaten, gaze wandering between Chris and Eddie as he seeks an explanation.

"Dad said we can go to the park," Chris announces, turning his wide, hopeful eyes on Buck which Eddie knows is Chris' superpower. No one can resist Chris when he turns on the pleading eyes and absolute charm, and Buck was the worst sucker of them all. "Will you come too, Buck?"

"Hmmm…" Buck shifts towards Eddie, arms winding around his neck and lips pressing a kiss to the top of his head by way of a greeting. Eddie tilts his head back to smile up at him but Buck, the bastard, uses the distraction to steal his mug of coffee straight from his grasp.

"Hey!" he protests but Buck just grins and steps out of reach, making Eddie unashamedly pout and try to pull the same sort of pleading expression that Chris uses to such great effect. Buck just laughs at him and Eddie starts plotting some form of revenge that might include ice in his pillow.

"I'll make you another one, babe. Relax." Buck snorts at the expression on his face before turning his attention back to Chris, a hand cupping the back of his neck and drinking from Eddie's coffee like it's the most natural thing in the world. "More juice, bud?"

Chris nods, bouncing in his seat and splashing more milk on the table while he watches Buck swipe the bottle of juice off the counter. "So are you gonna come to the park with us?"

Buck's eyes are bright blue, wide and open and reflecting all the love and affection he has for Eddie's son and Eddie feels something in his chest catch at the expression. There's a bit of vulnerability there, a little uncertainty, and yet so much _warmth_ that it takes his breath away. It's a sort of hopeful, mischievous glee and it's something he hasn't seen in Buck's eyes in almost a year. He wishes he had his phone nearby because he'd add it to his collection of images to look at on the bad days.

"I'd _love_ to come to the park with you, bud," Buck says as he tops up Chris' glass of juice. Chris bounces in his seat, another Cheerio flipping off his spoon and adding to the mess on the table.

Buck swivels towards the kitchen, confidently drifting between cupboards and the fridge to obtain a fresh mug, pour fresh coffee, add a dash of milk. The white t-shirt across his shoulders is stretched thin with how broad Buck's gotten after returning to work, tapering towards his waist where the ash grey sweatpants conceal very little from Eddie's wandering eyes. He gazes at Buck like it's the first time he's truly _seen_ him in a long time and he's not perturbed to be caught staring when Buck sets the fresh mug in front of him, a quizzical look twitching his brows and lips.

"_What_?"

Eddie shrugs, waiting until Buck is sipping from what _was_ his coffee before he responds. "I love you," he says casually, grinning at the way Buck practically snorts the liquid up his nose in surprise and the grip on the mug falters.

Chris giggles, failing to grasp the gravity of the moment but clearly amused by Buck's reaction. He can't blame his kid. It _was_ a pretty good reaction.

"You-" Buck coughs, and coughs again, and maybe Eddie shouldn't have waited until the guy virtually _inhaled_ coffee but it seemed like a viable payback to having his coffee stolen in the first place. His grin doesn't slip as Buck finally regains some semblance of control over himself, his cheeks flushed. "You- You do?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches for Buck, curling a finger into his shirt and kissing him gently. Buck releases a shy, disbelieving sort of laugh and for a moment, Eddie forgets his kid is sitting at the table until he hears a very long, "Ewww_wwwwww_www, Daaaa_aaaaaa_aad!"

"Today's your lucky day then, Eddie Diaz, because I love you too," Buck teases, and Eddie would almost swear his eyes were misty.

Buck presses a final kiss to his lips, then his nose, and his forehead. Eddie's still smiling. It's the sort of smile he's not sure will ever fade as long as he has Buck looking at him like he hung the sun, and the moon, and the stars.

It's the sort of smile he wants to wear forever.

* * *

_**~FIN~**_


End file.
